Refuge Cove

by Janet Dailey

  It didn’t matter, as long as they caught the bastard and put him away for the rest of his life.

  The sun was low in the sky, its fading light touching the clouds with flame. Each day seemed shorter than the last. Now he could see scattered lights along the coast, growing brighter. He slowed the engine and lowered the flaps for a smooth descent to the water.

  By the time he taxied into Refuge Cove, docked the Beaver, and climbed into the Jeep, it was nightfall. Unless she’d decided to stay in her room, Emma would be working. Wherever she was, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight until Boone was caught.

  Without taking time to check the cabin, he drove into town. He could have called Emma from Refuge Cove, but if she was working or resting in her room, it would be best not to disturb her with a call. Either way, he wouldn’t relax until he set eyes on her.

  Relief swept over him as he parked across the street and spotted her through the window of the restaurant. She was working. She was all right.

  As he opened the door and stepped inside, she gave him a passing smile. But he could see the weary shadows around her eyes. She looked ready to drop.

  John found an out-of-the-way table. He took a seat to wait for Emma to get a free moment. He couldn’t see David. Maybe the boy was in the kitchen.

  Pearl crossed the room to his table. “That girl’s about to collapse,” she said. “You need to get her out of here and see that she gets some rest. Tell her I said it was fine. We’re not that busy tonight.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that. Where’s David, by the way?”

  “He begged off for a ball game at school. Something tells me his heart isn’t in this job. If he wasn’t my nephew, I’d fire his little butt.” She smiled as she said it, assuring John that David’s job was in no danger.

  Emma stopped by the table on her way back to the kitchen. “I just told this man to get you out of here,” Pearl said to her. “Go on. You’re a wreck. I can close.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Just go.”

  “Thanks. I could use a break.” Emma glanced down at her uniform, then at John. “Can you wait while I change? I got splattered with spaghetti sauce earlier.”

  “I can go up with you,” he said, thinking of her safety.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll only be a minute. Then I want to get out of here.” She hurried off toward the lobby and vanished up the stairs.

  Pearl brought John a Coke while he waited. He sipped it, feeling a vague uneasiness. Maybe he should have insisted on going upstairs with her. Boone had shown himself capable of reaching her almost anywhere. What if he’d found his way into the hotel and was waiting for her in the hallway outside her door?

  Maybe he should call and make sure she was all right. He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to her number. But before he could make the call, he saw her come into the lobby, wearing jeans, a sweater, and her quilted jacket.

  He joined her, and they walked outside, into the chilly night. He checked the street as they crossed. He even checked around and inside the Jeep before he let her in. But there was no sign of Boone anywhere. Maybe he was being overly cautious. Maybe Boone was on the run, after all.

  “Hungry?” he asked her, starting the Jeep.

  “Not really, unless you are. Just drive. That would be fine.”

  He turned onto Grant Street, planning to circle up and around the park, maybe stop for a while if she wanted, and then come back. He’d gone just a few blocks when his phone rang. David’s name came up on the caller ID.

  Alarms went off in his head as he took the call. He’d given David his number the night they went out. But why would the boy be calling him?

  “David? Are you all right?”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “Howdy there, brother.” Boone’s voice triggered a chill that passed like an icy blade through his body. “I hear you want to make a trade.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “What do you want, Boone?” John’s pulse slammed as he pulled the Jeep to the side of the street. He willed himself to speak calmly. Emma was staring at him, frozen in horror.

  Boone’s laugh was pure, cold evil. “I’ll give you one guess. You’ve got something I want. I’ve got something you want. We get together, we make a trade. Your son for my woman. Everybody wins.”

  Shock and denial struck John like a blast. This had to be some kind of hideous joke, he tried to tell himself. Any minute now, Boone would laugh, admit that it was all a prank, and end the call, just like he might have done in the old days.

  But the situation was all too real. Boone had his son, and his only hope of saving the boy was to accept it and act calmly and deliberately.

  “How do I know you’ve got David?” he demanded. “How do I know he’s alive?”

  “He’s alive, all right. And it’s up to you to keep him that way. Here, take a listen, brother.” There was the sound of fumbling and a noise like ripping tape, a pause, and a voice.

  “Let me go, you filthy piece of—”

  The rest of the words were cut off by what sounded like a blow. But the voice was unmistakably David’s. Hearing it was like a knot of barbed wire twisting tight around John’s heart. He pictured his son bound and taped, maybe in pain, surely scared, but still defiant. In spite of everything he felt proud of the boy.

  Boone laughed again. “Satisfied?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Remember the fun we used to have with those old paintball games? Wait about fifteen minutes. Then come alone, just you and the woman, and we’ll make the trade. No weapon. If the cops show up, I’ll kill the boy. You know I can do it. I’ve already killed once. I don’t have a damned thing to lose.”

  “So why did you kill Bethany Ann?” Keep him talking. Stall any way you can while you look for his vehicle. He has to be somewhere close in order to know you’re out here with Emma. He might even be watching you.

  John pulled the Jeep away from the curb, turned around, and drove slowly back toward the docks, looking up and down the streets. He was aware of Emma, leaning close to hear the conversation. She was shaking.

  “I got tired of the bitch,” Boone said. “Always whining and wanting to go home. She couldn’t cook worth a damn, and she was like cold mashed potatoes in bed. I couldn’t let her leave. She’d seen too much of my business, and I’d pretty much spent her money, so there wasn’t much use keeping her around.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Waited till her back was turned and whacked her in the head with a log splitter’s maul. The bitch went down like she didn’t feel a thing. Pretty smart the way I buried her with that deer, don’t you think?”

  The man was insane. And John could see no vehicle that might be his. If he could get a description, he could call the troopers and have them stop it on the highway. But Boone was probably aware of that, and he was too wily to let it happen. He knew every back road and shortcut in the county. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t be.

  “You’re not that smart. You didn’t fool the dog,” John said.

  “Well, I won’t make that mistake again. I’ve said enough. You know the plan. Don’t make me kill this boy.” Boone ended the call.

  * * *

  Emma had heard the conversation, and she knew what John was facing. Still, she wasn’t prepared when he pulled up in front of the hotel and stopped. “Get out and go inside, Emma,” he said.

  “No.” Her answer came without hesitation.

  “Go on. I’ll find a way to rescue David. I’ll do anything I have to, even if it means killing the bastard. But I can’t ask you to go back to him.”

  “I’m the one Boone wants,” she argued. “If I’m there, it will give us the best chance of getting David back. At least we’ll have more options.”

  John didn’t answer. She gazed at his grim profile in the darkness and understood the agonizing choice he faced. She couldn’t allow him to make it. She would have to make it for him.

  Maybe tha
t’s what love was.

  “You have to take me with you,” she said, knowing what that could mean for her. “We’ve got to do this together.”

  Without a word, John pulled the Jeep away from the curb and headed up the highway toward Ward Cove. Emma knew the place where Boone had said he’d be waiting with David. It was the old pulp mill site, closed down more than twenty years ago. John had mentioned breaking in there with a gang of teenagers to play paintball.

  She tried to picture the place in her mind, the way John had pointed it out to her. She closed her eyes, struggling to bring back every detail. The largest warehouse was in use, but there were other buildings farther down the long, flat stretch of the dock, which extended past the water’s edge.

  She should have noticed more—doors, windows, fences, empty spaces, but at the time she’d seen the place, she’d barely given it a look. This was the best she could do.

  Her pistol was in the zippered pocket of her jacket. The one thing she didn’t have was her cell phone. She’d left it in the hotel room with her work clothes. That ruled out any chance she might have to call for help.

  They’d gone about five miles up the highway when John’s phone rang again. Without slowing the Jeep or checking the caller ID, John snatched the phone out of his pocket. “Boone?”

  “What in heaven’s name is going on?” Marlena’s shrill voice carried to Emma’s ears. “David hasn’t come home yet. He’s not answering his phone. I’m worried sick. Is he with you? Tell me the truth!”

  “He’s not with me. I can’t talk now, Marlena. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into the cup holder.

  She needs to know the truth, Emma thought. But she knew that John was in no position to tell her. And this was no time to argue with him. Marlena would call the police. But the police wouldn’t know where to look or what to do. She and John were on their own.

  * * *

  John turned the Jeep into Ward Cove and headed for the gate to the pulp mill. The gate appeared padlocked, but when he got out of the Jeep, he saw that the lock had been cut and was simply hanging in place. Boone had been there ahead of him. It was easy to remove the lock and swing the gate open.

  Back in the Jeep, he switched the headlights on high beam and drove through. The glaring lights would help him see ahead. They would also shine into Boone’s eyes, making it hard to see what was directly in front of him. It was a small advantage, but right now everything counted.

  Emma sat silent beside him, trusting him to do whatever was the right thing—trusting him to have a plan. But in this dark hour, his only plan lay in the certainty that he couldn’t lose either of the two people he loved more than life.

  He recognized the warehouse where he’d played as a teen, but the building, which stood next to the dock, was dark. Picking up his phone, he brought up David’s number and called it. Boone answered. “I see you’re here. Have you brought my lovely bride?”

  “Emma’s here. I want to see my son.”

  Something stirred in the shadows beyond the light. Someone—it had to be Boone—was standing outside, near the open doorway. John’s pistol was under the seat but he couldn’t risk using it. Not until he knew where David was.

  “Leave the phone and get out of the vehicle, both of you,” Boone ordered. “Put your hands up and walk into the light where I can have a look at you. If I see a weapon, the boy will be the first one to die.”

  John put down the phone and glanced at Emma. “Don’t get out. No matter what he says, stay right where you are.”

  Leaving the pistol, he climbed out of the Jeep and walked into the circle of light. “Her, too,” Boone said. “Get her out here.”

  “Not until I’ve seen David. Nothing’s going to happen until you bring him out where I can see him.”

  He waited, refusing to move. Boone wouldn’t really kill David, he told himself. Without his hostage he’d have nothing to bargain with. But then, Boone wasn’t sane. It wasn’t safe to assume anything.

  * * *

  When John got out of the Jeep, Emma was tempted to grab the phone and call Marlena, or call 911 to bring the police. But that would only make the situation more dangerous, and she was running out of time. John had left his .44 under the seat. Trying to use it could get David or John killed. But the little Kel-Tec was still zipped into her jacket, its shape barely visible inside the quilted pocket. Boone might expect her to have a gun, but even if he did, the small pistol might escape his notice.

  John was unarmed, and Boone had nothing to lose by killing him. But Boone wouldn’t kill her. If that was all he’d wanted, she’d be dead by now. Boone wanted her alive, so he could torment her. That, and the hidden gun, gave her advantages that John didn’t have.

  John had ordered her to stay in the Jeep no matter what. But if she wanted both John and David to live, she would have to act, and act decisively.

  In the beam of the headlights, she could see that Boone had brought David out the door of the warehouse, holding him like a shield. David’s mouth and wrists were bound with silver duct tape. His ankles were hobbled with rope so he could walk a little but couldn’t run. The pistol in Boone’s hand was pressed against his temple. David’s eyes were wide with terror. Emma could imagine what the sight of him was doing to John.

  She’d rolled down the window of the Jeep to hear what was being said. What she heard was Boone laughing. “See, your boy’s just fine, bro. But he’s a scrappy one. Put up a right good fight before I got him under control. It’d be a real shame to have to put a bullet through his head, wouldn’t it?”

  “The boy’s your own flesh and blood, Boone. Doesn’t that count for anything?” John was clearly stalling for time, waiting for an unguarded moment. But any move he made would be risky for both him and David. Emma knew what she had to do.

  Boone laughed again. “Hell, that crap-assed sister of mine wouldn’t spit on our family. She’s no kin of mine in the way it counts, and neither is her boy. Now tell my woman to get out of that Jeep and get her butt over here before I get an itchy trigger finger.”

  Emma opened the door, climbed out of the Jeep, and strode into the headlights. “Let the boy go, honey,” she said. “I’m here, and as soon as these two no-accounts are on their way, I’ll be ready for a real man. I’m all yours.”

  Even without seeing or touching him, she could feel John’s tension. He’d ordered her to stay put. But it was as if they’d both known the truth—the only way to save David was for her to defy him. All he could do now was trust her.

  Had she overdone her performance? But no, Boone was enough of a narcissist to lap up every word. He was even grinning.

  “Come on,” she said, walking toward him with a seductive sway of her hips. “We can’t get the good stuff started while we’ve got company. Just let the boy go. Let his daddy drive him out of here before somebody sees that open gate and calls the police.”

  Boone’s gaze narrowed. Maybe she’d overdone her act after all. “No tricks,” he said, still holding the pistol to David’s head. “You come over here and stand next to me. Then I’ll think about turning the boy loose.”

  Knowing better than to take a false step, Emma walked to stand at his elbow. The door behind them was partway open. Emma’s hand brushed its cold metal surface. “Here I am,” she whispered in Boone’s ear. “Now what do you say we get out of here?”

  She felt him tense. Boone was strong, and he had the reflexes of a cougar. As long as he had his gun on David, there was no way she could outmaneuver him. Even with the pistol in her pocket, she could do nothing until John and his son were safe. She could only react to whatever move Boone chose to make.

  When he made it, she had no time to prepare. In a single motion, he shoved David forward onto his face, yanked Emma through the door, and slammed it shut behind them. She was still fumbling to unzip her pocket and get to her pistol when he slid the heavy bolt and turned around with his gun pointed at her.

  “Pretty good show out the
re, baby,” he said. “But you didn’t have me fooled. When we get to where we’re headed, I’m going to make you scream.”

  The warehouse was a cavernous space, most of it empty. The only light, falling through high windows and two glass skylights in the roof, was cast by the waning moon. Emma could see her way, and she could see Boone, standing next to her, gripping her arm, but little else.

  She imagined John outside the door, picking up his son and helping him to the Jeep. They would be all right, but there was no way he could get past the locked door to help her. It was time to fight for her life.

  “Please, Boone.” The fingers of her free hand had made it past the zipper to the gun in her pocket. Her fingertip disengaged the safety. She couldn’t get the gun out without his seeing it, but maybe she wouldn’t have to.

  “Please let me go,” she begged, trying to distract him. “Without me along, you can make a clean getaway. You can start over somewhere, make a new life.”

  “Sorry, babe, but I can’t leave you behind,” he said. “You set the fire that burned me and turned me into a freak. No way am I letting you go. But I’ll give you a choice. Either you come with me, or I shoot you right here. What’s your answer?”

  She’d found the trigger. Twisting the gun inside the pocket, she turned and forced herself to kiss him. But the kiss was awkward enough to make him suspicious. She was just squeezing the trigger when he shoved her arm. The shot went wild. The gun’s recoil knocked her hand out of her pocket and sent her staggering backward. The weapon skittered across the floor, into the dark.

  “You little bitch!” Boone slapped her so hard that she saw stars. “I could kill you now, but that would take the fun out of it. Come on, let’s go.”

  Yanking her arm, he dragged her toward something she hadn’t noticed until now. Framed by a low wooden rail was an opening in the floor with a stairway leading down to the water under the dock. At the foot of the stairway, barely visible in the dim, reflected light, was a boat.

  As Boone dragged her down the stairway, Emma could see the boat more clearly. It was an open sport boat with an inboard motor, the kind of craft that might be used for water skiing or light fishing. It would make for a clever getaway. No one would see Boone leaving with her until it was too late to stop him.